The hallway was dark. So dark, it seemed abysmal, and one could barely see the tip of his own fingers if they went as far as the full length of an arm away. Deeper into the hall however, two brightly burning steel braziers each standing straight at the side of a pillar lit the path, a black smoke rising from the dish of each and puffing deeper forth the hallway, going as far as can be seen before dissipating into the dim blackness.<br/><br/>The seer Vorkash 'Tho's steps echoed throughout the pathway with every step, despite his natural light steps. Vorkash grimaced as he looked down the darkness, a vain effort to gauge the length further he had to walk. He had always been uncomfortable walking along this pathway during his visits to the throne room, but notably more so this one time. Pyreclaw the Younger had grown far more fickle in his treatment of vassals. Not too long ago, he had had a seer like him flogged for showing defiance. The man's screams were most unnerving -<br/><br/>But had they not been, they would be on the racks in turn. They rarely had to worry about that, however. After all, Pyreclaw's master tormentors used bladed scourges. It was rare that a man would be able to resist their tortures, and even then, they had their methods. Vorkash made a mental note for himself to<span style="font-style: italic">try</span>avoid such a fate. It seemed that even the slightest mistake could warrant punishment now, and although Pyreclaw usually left his subjects to reflect on their actions to serve him better in the future, and Vorkash knew no one who suffered the attentions of the master tormentors would ever emerge from the torture chambers unchanged.<br/><br/>Even Pyreclaw's most favored servants would undergo punishments so easily, and Vorkash wasn't among the favorites. He was lucky there were no important news he had to deliver the past few months, but his luck has ran out a day ago as Mordrake's latest weapon proved a success.<br/><br/>Putting aside unpleasant thoughts in an attempt to calm himself down, Vorkash turned his neck slightly to the left to pay more attention to the pillar he passed, and on it was inscribed the great legacy of Pyreclaw the elder, a legacy his spawn is working so hard to emulate. Archaic art depicted Pyreclaw breathing a great gout of flame, engulfing all who opposed him, Merfolk, Human, and Elf alike. The great dragon's victims recoiled in the blaze, swatting at their armor in futile attempts to extinguish the flames.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">And the fools who dared defy the word of Pyreclaw paid for their idiocy,</span>the text beneath the image said, written in the tongue of dragons centuries ago, text he has read countless times, having tended the city Pyreclaw left for his son. As Vorkash turned his neck to the right, he saw the dragon extending his neck to full length, looking downwards upon the peoples who paid him respect, pressing their foreheads to the ground in equal amounts of fear and respect. A pile of gleaming treasures rested before Pyreclaw's image.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">The wise choose to offer him their loyalties.</span>Another picture below that of the first on the right pillar showed the very same people now dressed in shining suits of armor, and treasures heaped by their sides, as they again abased themselves at Pyreclaw's feet.<span style="font-style: italic">The wise are rewarded for their services.</span><br/><br/>More pillars and braziers came as Vorkash continued further down the hallway, and they depicted in chronological order, left to right to left to right, the deeds of Pyreclaw and his eventual fate. Nearly a dozen pairs of pillars had passed before Vorkash reached the end of the hallway, and the final two pillars, one depicting Pyreclaw's dissipation into essence, falling onto the crowd of drakefolk at his feet as they basked in the power he had been forced to give them, and his draconic features twisted in anger, hatred -<br/><br/>And the other, the final one, of a man with the features of a dragon, arriving at the gates of Azkha Gharak. The arrival of Pyreclaw's son, as the seers have prognosticated. After his father, they had named him Mordrake Pyreclaw, and he had ruled Azkha Gharak ever since. The few seers that had grown too accustomed to their power and corrupt, deviating from their loyalty in Pyreclaw, soon received their discipline at the edge of an executioner's axe.<br/><br/>Vorkash turned and faced the great portal before him, two wooden and steel doors that four men could easily stride through, easily twice his height. He placed his hands upon both the doors and pushed.<br/><br/>The doors flared open, introducing Vorkash to a room which glowed with an orange hue, eight braziers leading from both frontal corners of a large throne within the center of the room to the room's edges. The throne was built between two pillars, and each pillar held a torch straight that bent towards the throne at a forty five degree angle, lighting the person seated on the throne perfectly. Fire light shone off Mordrake Pyreclaw's dark black scales, as he rose his head to acknowledge his visitor.<br/><br/>The throne was built with Mordrake's draconic form in mind, with grooves that allowed his wings to rest against its back, when the Dragonborn curled his wings forward to shroud his body. A dozen steps, a man's head in height each, led to the seat, and to the right of the throne, a great two handed axe could be seen, fit into a slot in the ground. The Talon of Pyreclaw, Mordrake's weapon.<br/><br/>"My lord," Vorkash greeted, sinking to a knee and bowing his head in subservience. The flames within the room brought sweat down from his brow, but he staved aside the temptation to wipe it away. It dripped to the stone floor, inaudible. "Your servant brings news."<br/><br/>"You arrive," Mordrake said, standing from his grand throne and walking down the great stone steps. His feet landed with a loud<span style="font-style: italic">thump</span>with every step, and Vorkash could barely tell if it were just his imagination, or that the ground was actually<span style="font-style: italic">trembling</span>beneath him. Mordrake stopped with his right knee an inch away from his vassal's forehead, planting his foot solidly on the ground with his final movement, ending with another<span style="font-style: italic">thump.</span><br/><br/>"Rise," he said.<br/>"Thank you, my lord," Vorkash said as he rose slowly to his feet. This close to Mordrake, he could smell sulfur on him, the natural smell his father, a fire dragon, exuded. Naturally, as Pyreclaw the Elder's son, Mordrake bore the same characteristic in his half-dragon form. Even risen at full height, Vorkash could not hope to match Mordrake's immense build. The Dragonborn easily towered head and shoulders over him, almost four feet taller.<br/><br/>"What news do you bring?" Pyreclaw asked, turning his back upon his subject and stepping for a few moments towards the throne before finally unfurling his wings. They bloomed like the tail of a peacock, revealing Mordrake in his full draconic majesty before settling back into place.<br/><br/>"Good news, my lord." Vorkash replied, wanting to smile but not daring to. "Your new weapon..."<br/>"The cannon?"<br/>"Yes, the cannon. We have tested it, to great effect. The house of Vryer is no more."<br/><br/>Mordrake smirked. Lord Vryer was one of the seers who had defied him initially, claiming that the Dragonborn was no descendant of Pyreclaw, having grown too accustomed to the luxuries of being a lord in Azkha Gharak. Mordrake had ordered his execution before stripping his family of their home and rights when he came to power, and he had designated for their dwelling to be the test bed for his new weapon.<br/><br/>"As I have foreseen," he said, walking further back towards the throne.<br/>"You are wise beyond your years, my lord. Your father took years to even discover the potential of that technology," Vorkash said as he followed his liege. "House Vryer was decimated within two volleys. The shots made a mockery of their walls and smashed their dwellings into rubble."<br/><br/>"Father?" Mordrake thought. He had not seen his father except in visions and in the art the seers had drawn in the pillars leading to his throne room. Still, he felt a deep longing, a great desire to see his father in the flesh. That ignited the hatred within his burning heart.<br/><br/>"Good. Very, very good," Mordrake responded, turning his head slightly so one eye could see his servant. Vorkash could see the roiling hate in the Dragonborn's orange, reptilian eye. "This was not good," he thought. "Come," the half-dragon beckoned. The pair walked past the braziers to the back of the throne room, where a balcony could be seen. Together, they arrived at the balcony, which allowed them a perfect view of the city.<br/><br/>"What was it that my father intended for me to do with this city?" the half-dragon asked, his voice deep and growling. He looked at the legions of assembled footsoldiers at the courtyard three hundred feet below. They were practicing marching drills as he had instructed, regiments of forty men each moving together in unison, to form shield walls, phalanxes of halberds and spears, or even spreading out for skirmishing. Within their ranks were people of every race, human, elf, merfolk, they were all the same, desperate prisoners that he had converted and trained.<br/><br/>The drakefolk however were there of their free will. Opposed to the sacrifice of the dragons for their well-being, they were nevertheless forced to accept their gift. However, how they used their gifts was up to them, and they have decided to serve Pyreclaw, even in his death, and their prophesied leader had arrived - Mordrake, his half-dragon son. Within his army, they served as the shock troops - elite soldiers that charged into the thick of the fight.<span style="font-style: italic">Drakengard,</span>he had named them.<br/><br/>"Why, of course, you are to use the power he left you to restore him to life, and take your position as a dragon, to rule by his side." Vorkash said.<br/>"How did my father deal with<span style="font-style: italic">traitors?</span>" Mordrake demanded as he turned to face his subject, furious, his eyes staring deep into his subject's. His gaze was intense, to the point where Vorkash almost swore that Mordrake was tearing him apart with his gaze alone.<br/>"What do you mean?" the seer stammered, taking nervous, fearful steps backwards.<br/><br/>Mordrake swung a large hand out and grabbed the man by the throat, dangling him in the plain air out in the balcony. The drakefolk seer's legs kicked furiously as he gasped for breath. The half dragon's grip relaxed only as much as was required for the seer to breathe and speak. Mordrake continued. "You took half the produced cannons and kept them for yourself. May I ask why?" he roared, bringing his struggling subject forward to stare him in the eye.<br/><br/>"Please my lord, I had nothing to do with it!" Vorkash moaned, his hands clamping uselessly to Mordrake's hand in a futile attempt to pull himself loose. "Rorzen said they were to be kept in reserve for special issue!"<br/><br/>Mordrake brought the seer back to the balcony and dropped the man. Vorkash immediately fell to his knees, gasping for breath. "I thank you, my lord!" he said, pressing his forehead to the ground. "Rorzen, he was amongst the suspects for conspiring against me, was he not?" Mordrake spat. "Yes," the seer gasped, pressing his head even harder on the ground. "Proven innocent, my lord!"<br/><br/>"Your incompetence could cost me my life!" Mordrake roared, kicking the seer and sending the man crashing into the edge of the balcony's boundary. Even then, Vorkash got to his feet and planted his head firmly onto the ground again, unwilling to risk aggravating Mordrake further. "Bring Rorzen in for questioning immediately," the Dragonborn ordered, turning back towards the balcony. "Risk my wrath again, and I will not be nearly so merciful, and know that you only live because I wish it so. Now, get out. I will not suffer your presence any longer."<br/><br/>The seer scrambled to his feet and ran for the doors.