It has been a tragic few years since the disappearance of the legendary purple dragon Spyro. He was the only one capable of standing up to the horrors of Malefor the Dark Master. The legends state that he alone had the potential to tame the turbulent energies of convexity and bring an end to the reign of terror that his predecessor had wrought upon the land. With him gone, Malefor was left to run rampant across the realms. His eyes bore witness to every fault that pervaded mortal thought and left him with a simple solution to this issue.
Kill everything and start anew.
He amassed huge hordes of dark beings ranging from corrupted flora and fauna to merciless hell-fiends. Demons of various shapes and sizes were ripped from the darkest pits of Hell using the power of convexity to literally tear holes in the fabric of space and time. These hordes were too much for the other races. It came to pass that even the mighty dragons, who had stood against many infamous monsters in the past, were pushed back by the waves of horrific entities pouring out from Malefor's floating temple. Like a cancer his forces consumes the land at a rapid and barely controllable pace. No one could stand up to these hordes and survive, except for a select few.
These individuals who decided to make a stand for their planet's survival were known by many names and titles. They were brave adventurers, honor bound knights, curious scholars, greedy assassins, noble heroes, reluctant messiahs, willing saviors, and mad men. Each varied in levels of skill and sanity, but all worked towards one ultimate goal: the destruction of Malefor and his near infinite armies. They wielded magic and steel as well as blessings from ancient legends. The greatest among them all could strike fear into the hearts of their opponent's with but a single glance, each wielding the power to put down any who dared stand against them. These poor individuals sacrificed their minds, bodies, and souls to obtain the power they needed. Forbidden rituals and forgotten relics lent them power far beyond what most could even hope to achieve.
This is the story of one such person.
Evandrael Ezban was a young draconic scholar that researched ancient magicks. He was white, marking him as one who lacked any natural element. He had no spines or other protrusions running down his back that most regular dragons would, and even lacked a set of horns. He still had a tail blade which was a metal spike that had fur surrounding the base. Several metal rings covered in the writings of a forgotten language dangled around the large circle of fur. Similar rings rested on the ankles of his legs and even the base of his neck. His head was topped with a thick mane of black fur which fell down over his faded red eyes. The color faded to the point where it was almost pink.
Evandrael Ezban always wore a light suit of chain mail armor with metal scales. The armor was forged with both aesthetics and function in mind. Heavy metal plating hung from his haunches and shoulders with a design that was meant to provide as much maneuverability as possible. Metal spikes trailed down his back to dissuade any opponents from trying to mount him. Strapped to this masterpiece was a series of enchanted pouches and spell tomes that provided access to support spells and items. Tomes containing basic buffs and debuffs were nestled alongside small yet bulging bags enchanted with expansion charms. Everything an adventurer needed was contained within them. There was food, water, and even parts of a pair of decent sized tents. Everything necessary for survival was there.
One day during his research Evandrael Ezban came upon a collection of spells tomes. Each one contained various parts to a great forbidden ritual, which could grant any who could tap into the ethereal flow of mana, the ability to summon the powers of ancient demons to aid the caster in combat. He assumed it was like the kinds of spells used by necromancers and summoners, which called upon beings outside of this plane of existence, but he was wrong. This spell didn't pull beings into this world through contracts or copies but allowed the caster to take on the aspects of the being he or she would be summoning. If they sought to call upon the aid of a fire elemental, they would instead become an elemental themselves. This required the soul of the being the caster wanted to call upon, or at the very least a copy of said soul.
Through three full years of strict training, Evandrael Ezban managed to obtain and train several different forms in preparation for the final confrontation with the Dark Master. He joined with many different adventuring parties to take on high-level demons in every single realm. He'd traveled to the Sergal, Wolf, Panther, Mole, Ape, and Griffon kingdoms to supply aid to the more outlying areas. The main cities and battle zones already had more than enough adventurers to provide great defenses, but that left the outlying parts with little to no help. The people in those areas welcomed his aid with open arms and great shows of generosity.
Three days after helping a small Sergal village set up defenses against the scattered demon forces Ezban decided it was time to head back to his old home of Warfang in the Dragon Kingdom and see how things were going. The inhabitants were sad to see him leave after giving them some much-needed aid but knew he was worried about his home. Warfang was at the forefront of the advancing dark armies, and every day meant there was an even likelier chance they would be overrun. Ezban knew this and was determined to head back and try to alleviate some of the strain. The villagers gave him food and drink that would last him the duration of his journey and walked him half of the way to the nearby port town of Emerald Waves. This port town received many of the nation's imports and was a major target of the demon hordes, so Ezban bid them a fond farewell before making his way down the path.
This whole time he never suspected the kind of adventure that would be waiting for him back home.