The Sky King’s castle was large. Originally built by a clan of primordial air elementals that were eventually sealed away, the castle was the twice the size of a mountain and large enough to house seven armies. However the Sky King’s strength did not come from his army comprised out outcasts and bandits. No, his large but insignificant army was nothing compared to his dragon. Malbur, The Grief Star. An air dragon so powerful a single tear from him is said to cause tornados capable of destroying nations. No one knows where he came from, not even the Sky King, none of the ancient air dragon families dotted around the plane had ever claimed Malbur as one of their own and Malbur refuses to tell anyone, not even the king he was bound to.
Malbur stood outside on a large balcony of one of the inner spires. Because of his large size, approximately the size of a two story building, he was given an entire wing of the castle to himself. Although he didn’t care much about it.
He stood looking out into the distance, his grey scales marking his age as an air dragon now falling into his middle age. Granted, dragons live for thousands of years and tend to a lot spend more than a century “falling into their middle age”.
Across the hallway the length of a football, Malbur heard the steps of a servant coming his way. He made no effort to move closer, and waited where he sat, his tail curled around him as he stared at the cloudy landscape around him, counting the towns both met and far but always losing count after ten.
Eventually the soft plops of the servant walking across the cloud floor ended beside him.
“Speak my servant.” Malnutrition spoke softly but could tell it still sounded like an explosion to the servant.
“Our graceful Lord, the Sky King requests you to begin your daily divination ritual. While I do not mean to imitate him in anyway, he says that today he feels something is coming and would like you to figure out what.” The servant reported, keeping his head down but relaxed in the presence of the air dragon.
“Thank you for your message, you may leave now my servant.” Malbur muttered.
When the servant left his hearing range, Malbur gave a sigh. The Sky King was paranoid. He commanded an army the size of a city and had a air dragon and it’s draconic spawn under his command yet he feared death everyday. But he supposed it was reasonable.
Ever since the Sky King was given a prophecy several decades ago by Malbur:
It shall be then, when the sun and moon dance, a corrupted man shall bring the destruction of giants.
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As soon as the one with the blood of the eldritch and the form of the bat returns, a proposition shall bring the rise of corruption and the return of the Far Ones.
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It shall be on the day that the truth is revealed, innocence will die and shall usher forth a reunion of friends.
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Upon the day the feared and fearful giant falls, an unfortunate accident shall mark the fall of a kingdom and the rise of something that will be forever more.
Upon hearing that prophecy, the Sky King turned to paranoia. No logical reasoning could reach the Sky King’s ears and now he refuses to leave the safety of his castle like some scared child. Malbur thought as he walked through the long halls of the castle, descending deeper and deeper into the keep. He passed through several checkpoints each of which were manned by both trained guards of the Sky King and Malbur’s own personal kobolds.
There were no lights or sound as the cloud stone walls of the castle were replaced by rugged cloud rock. Malbur guesses that after an hour of walking at a relaxed pace he was at least a mile below the castle.
Malbur descended into a large open cave illuminated by the soft glow of large bioluminescent mushrooms. In the center of the cave, atop a large pedestal the size of a house, was a clear crystal ball almost as big as Malbur’s own head.
Malbur gave a loud yawn that sounded more like a nuke being set off before beginning his ritual. He did this everyday and every time no new prophecy was formed and the prophecy he did give to the Sky King continued to prove it was a false alarm. No prophecy was guaranteed after all.
Closing his eyes, Malbur began channeling elemental magic into the ball. The inside of the crystal began swirling with chaotic energy as the ritual took off.
“Sana me domine sors domini metu et Ostende mihi quid est venire. Dic mihi vi veritatis et secreta.” Malbur chanted. As Malbur divined, for the first time in what felt like years, a new prophecy formed in his head:
When dragon and monster clash, a battle shall cause an age of hunger.
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Upon the day the bat kills the giant, a broken promise shall bring forth lost friendships and new aggressions.
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When the day comes that the last giant dies, the innocent shall usher forth a new reign.
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When castles move and towns shiver, the needed lie shall bring forth a reunion of friends and the rise of the cloudmen which will only last until the monster’s return.
As soon as the ritual’s magic died down. Malbir rushed to find his master.