Forward from the Author

The world of 'Dragonknights' is set within Krynn, only rather than taking place on the continent of Ansalon like the main story line does, I've placed my story elsewhere, far away from Raistlin and the likes. While I will claim no creative ownership of Krynn, Ansalon, or other references to the wonderful world created by Margaret Weiss, Tracy Hickman, and Don Perin (and other authors therein), I do take pride in having set my story apart within a realm of my own. I encourage others to, if they so wish, make use of the world in the story that follows, but if you do so, or use characters from my own storyline, please take the courtesy to give credit where it is due, whether it be to WOTC, or even little ol' me.

Dragonknights is a series of stories that I have worked on for far too long, now. The original was a handwritten book that told about the second birth of Armageddon, a creation of Thakisis in the form of a dragon, one who was capable of bringing about a massive wave of death and annihilation. His companion, Vertigo, and a group of dragons that were brought about by Paladine to counter this threat. The main identifiers were their command over certain aspects of nature and reality. Fire, wind, water, ice, earth, chaos, death, the psyche, and space. I've started transferring the story to a typed format, more than six years after its initial writing, but its relevance to the Dragonknights storyline is minimal at best.

The main focus is after the fall of Vertigo and the 'Guardians'. Armageddon still retains what power remains, but due to his underlying desire for revenge is wont to unleash extinction on a world. Spectre, the chaos dragon who is referred to within this story, is not so much a master of creating chaos, but more chaotic and apt to act irrationally and on a whim.

I'll not go much further into things than this, as really I am just wanting to clarify a few things, as well as post the disclaimer that is in the opening paragraph of the Forward. Enjoy the story, and if you truly wish to read anything further (before the rewrite, too, might I add) the third installment which was the first to go down on a word-processor, is up on this site. It will, though, be pulled in due time, revamped, and rewritten to flow more in tune with the rest of the series.

So, with that said, enjoy the read. I look forward to finally getting back into the swing of things. I have a wonderful stay in Kuwait to thank, as well as Kuwait's pointed lack of things to do (unless you enjoy building sand castles), for the time and opportunity to get back to a series that I thoroughly enjoyed brainstorming and putting together.

Sincerely,

M. Vazquez, AN

United States Navy.

Prologue

Armageddon

Armageddon, a dark and evil dragon who, in the past, wished for the utter destruction of the world was defeated and sealed away inside the bowels of a mountain tomb. For two-thousand years he lay in wait, biding his time until Vertigo, a blood-hungry beast and his own mate, freed him. Two thousand years after almost annihilating life entirely, the dark dragon lord was unleashed upon the world.

A band of dragons, imbued with powerful skills by the gods, and a handful of human warriors allied with one another and used their skills to assault and try to stop Armageddon before he could repeat his original goal. However, the combined might of both Vertigo and Armageddon proved too much, and though Vertigo was slain, the allied heroes failed. In the end, their bodies were burned at Vertigo's funeral pyre as a sacrifice of appeasement in her honor.

Virtually unopposed, Armageddon was now free to do as he had originally wished to do during his first reign of terror. However, two thousand years in a tomb had given him a chance to revise his goals and plans. Now, rather than destruction, he sought domination. Using his skills and influence, he massed an army of men loyal to his own corrupted will and bolstered their ranks with minions and creatures wrought of the dark magic of his Queen, Thakisis.

Nations of light began to stand against the armies one by one, and one by one they were brought down and torn asunder. As the threat grew, alliances were formed and a coalition was formed by the remaining nations to combat the dark forces. The entire continent, along with the outlying island nations, was consumed by war.

Part I

Dawn of a Curse

Chapter I

It is the curse, or gift, of all beings that live on the earth to find a purpose in life. Embedded within the consciousness is a want, desire, and drive that urges a person, or beast, onward in the hopes that fulfillment will come through achievement, success, gain, or even thrills and testing physical and emotional limits.

For Armageddon, though, the hunger that drove his life further was destruction. Satisfaction came from the firelight that glinted in his eyes as he watched a village burn, or the fear that was frozen in the eyes of someone dying slowly under his teeth and claws. Death and destruction were an art, to him, and something that he had perfected to a very large degree over the thousands of years he had existed in the world. He had, once, brought life to its knees, threatened it in a chokehold and near annihilated everything until he had been stopped, imprisoned, confined….

But he knew that back then, the Armageddon that rode the skies with Vertigo at his side, blanketing the lands with death and carnage, that dragon was dead. Maturity, in a sense, had set in. A quick, painful death for the world was something that an impatient, ungrateful creature would do. A swift death, a splash of blood, and then nothingness. That sort of fate was far too unsatisfying, and far too good for a world that was responsible for the death of his trusted mate. No, just as Vertigo had a slow, agonizing death at the claws of a now deceased dragon, this world would suffer and pay the price. Destruction, death, and mayhem all had new meaning, grouped under the name of Revenge, and Revenge would come in a just, fitting manner, borne on the wings of the black dragon of destruction.

Armageddon could only chuckle to himself as he thought over his dreams and ambitions, watching a world crumble under his might, and then wither away slowly under his rule and discretion. Thakisis had been kind in allowing his army to grow exponentially. Already, the swarms of corrupt humans, orcs, and other unpleasantries born of magic and darkness alike were sweeping across the forested mountain ranges that littered the Northern Mirkilains. It would take a while, but the inevitable outcome was a total rule of both the North and South Mirkilains, the plainlands of Saito, the mine-littered underground M'alketh, and then on to the self-proclaimed 'Kingdom of Light', Falacci. Falacci alone provided the best access to raid the island nation of Rhy'Din, and once Rhy'Din collapsed, the continent would be his. A platform from where he could turn his eyes onto the rest of the world and, guided by Thakisis, destroy the far off lands of Ansalon and beyond. Krynn would collapse, and then rot away slowly into nothingness.

First, though, was carving across the continent and destroying Falacci. Paladine, the cursed god that he was, looked far too favorably upon the ruling family in that kingdom. While Thakisis' granted him a large army of her design, including a fair number of 'her children', fellow dark and twisted dragons like himself only less powerful, Paladine had done the same for Falacci, and there was a strong dragon-mounted cavalry that was causing its own fair share of problems and hindering the advancing wave of darkness.

The Dragonlord snorted softly, letting the dreams of the end-game fade as his eyes opened. The Citadel was near fully repaired, the most unfortunate setback coming after the fight that left Vertigo dead. The group of dragons that had stood against him did their fair share of damage to the structure, turning the lower catacombs into the tomb that now held his mate. All but one of them had died, though. If not while trying to bring Vertigo down, then afterwards when Armageddon's own rage overwhelmed them. The only survivor from their group was now an honorary member of the advancing wing of dragons that was dominating the skies to the west, a case of ambition and hunger for power overcoming trivial loyalties to the frail division between what was deemed 'Good' and 'Evil'. There was also the small detail that he was from the same bloodline as Vertigo. Family ties were always such a rich and wonderful thing when they played out right.

Stretching his wings, Armageddon took a few moments to revel at the dark and twisted art that adorned the domed ceiling of his Citadel. Depictions of death, Thakisis' children, and all focusing inward on the image of the Queen haloed by the dark moon Nuitari. It was a haven, a sanctuary where he could seek the council of his master without the bothersome troubles that lay outside the door, where his army eagerly awaited to share triumphs, or an unfortunate scout trembled in wait as the bearer of bad news. The scouts, though, never had much to fear. Armageddon knew better than to vent rage on the unfortunate messenger. Usually, he reassigned them to other battalions and brigades where they wouldn't fall victim to some egotistical and overly proud General. That was a hard thing to find, though. Most of the generals within the army were less than trustworthy, and constantly under watch by Armageddon's own hand-picked spies. A few of his leaders, though, were like black diamonds. Their value on the battlefield was unequaled thanks to the trust they could garner from the Dragonlord. They knew their place, and performed as they should.

The Citadel doors opened into the cloister that made up the entrance into the Citadel itself. He cut his way through the cloister, past the statues dedicated to himself and Thakisis, as well as a shrine dedicated to Vertigo with torches that would burn forever. Sunlight never reached the valley's floor, there was always a thick layer of smoke from numerous fires and, perhaps even a fair bit of sorcery, that saw to the constant darkness. Still, on nights like tonight, when Nuitari was in its full phase, the clouds parted to allow the black moon's light to grace the grounds. It was always a warming and welcome sight, comforting in a way. Armageddon chuckled softly to himself as he envisioned him wearing the moonlight like some lowly child might wear a warm blanket.

"M'lord, good evening."

A rather thin, wiry black dragon more slithered than walked up to greet his Commander, wings spreading in a faint bow and salute.

"Ah, always a pleasure to see one of my more reliable scouts," Armageddon returned the slight bow as an acknowledgement, "and I can only hope the news is good, Spectre?"

"But of course. Our hold on the northern Mirkilains is complete all the way through to the lowlands that spread into the southern regions. We have the tactical high-ground, and the enemy is on the run."

"Who were the remnants?"

"Elves, believe it or not. Seems they were rather fond of the forested areas. Would you believe they actually teamed up with the dwarven colonies from within the mountains to try and hold us back? A feeble effort, and the organization was little to be desired. We crushed them thoroughly."

Armageddon chuckled softly and nodded, continuing his walk and motioning the scout to follow alongside. "Good, good. I assure you, Thakisis is pleased. She has looked favorably upon you, as have I, ever since you showed your allegiance to your bloodline and helped avenge Vertigo's death. I do not exaggerate when I say that I look upon you as a brother, Spectre."

Spectre chuckled softly and nodded. "It is duly noted M'lord. So, what would you have me do next?"

"Remain here, I will send one of the others to relay the reason for your not returning to the rest of your wing. I may have some more pressing business appear, and I would appreciate having a truly trustworthy friend around to confide in should the need arise." Armageddon glanced up and smirked. "There is a full moon tonight, and Nuitari is lighting up the valley wonderfully."

He crossed the threshold from the cloister out into the valley itself. The Valle d'Morte, filled with the twisted and petrified carcasses of a forest that would never return to life. With the smoke blocking out the sunlight, and the only true light coming from Nuitari, the desolate landscape was all too fitting for the Dragonlord. Ages ago, when he had first laid waste to this part of the world, he had claimed the valley, which was more like a deep scar in the earth's layout, as his own, and the Citadel had been constructed as his lair.

"The others that I fought with before, the ones that killed my own blood, never understood what the light of Nuitari meant to me. They spoke of it as evil, dark, and something that should be feared."

"Respect is the only thing that Thakisis and her followers, as well as gifts, deserve outside of loyalty, Spectre. Your former companions were taught this shortly before they were dispatched. Soon, the rest of this land, and the lands beyond, will learn what happens to those who disrespect our Queen. But that is in the unforeseeable future. Until then, we think ahead to tomorrow. Go, get rest, have one of the dragonkeepers see to it that you are fed well, and given a warm spot to sleep."

Spectre nodded and offered a parting salute before slinking away, black scales soon hiding him in the shadows. Armageddon watched him for a moment and then sighed. Spectre was loyal, and trustworthy, though at times subject to fits of chaotic thought and behavior. It was nothing truly troublesome, but a bit of a challenge to work with at certain times. Still, over the years since the wars began, he had started to show quite a bit of improvement.

Turning his gaze from where the other dragon had departed, the Dragonlord glanced back out at the valley to take things in. The sounds of a war machine turning were all around. Siege workshops pounding joints and axels into place for various siege equipment, the parade grounds were always filled with drilling regiments and the sorts, units preparing for deployment to the front lines where they would relieve some of the more battle-weary regiments already in theater. It was a war machine –his war machine- and one to be proud of indeed.

He found a good perch nearby to watch the ongoing drills, basking in Nuitari's moonlight. His war machine had overrun the northern Mirkilains, and would easily take the southern soon enough. The dream that filled his nights was becoming a reality, and all he could do was smile and thank Thakisis for helping him realize his purpose in life, and how best to serve his Queen.