Summary: Their are many secrets in the Four Nations, many unknown powers at work from long forgotten ages. How much impact can they really have- how much power do they really hold? Can a simple musty sheet of paper hold so much power?
Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender
The greatest library in the world, with knowledge horded by an ancient owl spirit, had covered itself deeper with sands. Firebending warriors had come and burnt it's secrets, the long-lost tomes of pricless, irreplaceable knowledge transformed into nothing more than sad, mounds of ash that would never move- wind did not blow in these halls. Protective distrust shrouded greater judgement, painful disdain of the affairs of otherworlders left it cut-off from all but the most dedicated seekers of knowledge.
Deep within the museums of ancient secrets it held, deeper than anyone but the Avatars of ancient times had browsed, slept a single strange appearing stone. It was smooth and dark red, just shy of black. It's surface was rough and metalic, more like a spiked carapace than anything else. It was about the size of a human curled into a ball, and was twitching. After a strained moment of hesitation, the surface rippled, and then began to crackle. For ten minutes, it made strange noises and movements then finally crumbled to dust.
Left in its wake were a pair of bright golden red eyes, the slit pupils narrowing at its surroundings. /How times change.../ Ponderously, it clawed out, silently moving around, moving with grace and strength that defied human capability.
/How the world changes.../ A tongue snapped out of it's mouth for but a second, eyes pinching shut for a minute.
/Burnt and broken, this final battleground...so strong you have grown.../ The faint trail of fresh air was enough to lead the entity out and up from the depths of the library, leaving a spiritual bridge and entering a more solid world undistorted by an overlapping realm. Soon enough, he felt the owl- it was an ancient, tainted wisdom- jaded by pain and lonliness that was tangible to one such as itself.
/Blood and chaos, the taste is heavy in the air.../ It's tongue lapped in the air, tasting it and savoring it, dissecting it like a master critic.
/Fire has eradicated wind, flayed water, scarred earth.../ The powerful thought echoed in the library, the old being turning to see a massive owl staring at him, its massive neck craned several yards to get a closer look at it.
Wan Shi Tong, the wisdom spirit, found its eyes widening as it inspected the creature before it. "You are..." It spoke, murmuring in a powerful, echoing voice that remained elusive.
The stranger grinned, sharp canines gleaming in the pale light. "The Forefather of Fire, Landwaster and Betrayer. The Progenitor of Chaos and Prince of Blood. I've heard it all, they are all garbage names that fail to peg me for what I am." Wan Shi Tong narrowed its eyes.
"Your dormancy was supposed to last forever."
There was silence, then red eyes brightened in vicious mirth as deep, rolling apocalyptic laughter. "Forever is a long time- in relative terms, it was. The world has long since changed, I felt the Earth churning beneath me as ages passed...now that chaos and blood rule, it is time for me to reawaken."
Wan Shi Tong squirmed, revealing that he was gearing for a fight. The shadowed figure continued to grin viciously, and chuckled ominously at the sight. "What do you intend to do?" The owl spirit asked.
Another silence ensued, before a man stepped from the shadows, his long, crimson hair reaching his feet, his perfect, strong teeth white and sharp bared in a small smirk. Eyes glowing strongly, his muscled body coiled like hundreds of cobras poised to strike. "Me?...My destiny has been met and beaten, from here on out it is all of my own making, forged completely from scratch. No stars can guide me, no one has ever walked the path I follow." He turned, a single eye glaring through the owl into a deeper power it represented, his entier face turned cold as ice. "If you do anything...I'll kill you."
Wan Shi Tong bowed his head, showing his subservience to the superior power before him. It knew little of the being before him, save a few odd legends of a dragonlord that destroyed three continents, creating rivers of blood and fire, leaving the land wasted and masses butchered in his wake. In the end, he met in an epic battle with his younger brother. The younger one, Arkais, was left dead, tears upon his cheeks while the elder brother was nowhere to be found- only a strange stone similar to his armor left. Supposedly there was some foreign warrior who aided the younger Valeron, but there was simply not enough data to go by.
With such a legend, whose power was literally tangible in the air, terror and fear screeching in his aura like angry chains, it was difficult to resist anything he demanded. Ardonius Valeron, Landwaster, Betrayer, Progenitor of Chaos and the Prince of Blood. Obliterator and Murderer- it was said over three million died, that being only the human estimation- if one included all of the magical creatures that were once far more common...the number could be triple or more. It should warn the populace, but the owl truly did not care that much- besides, he appeared less...bloodthristy than portrayed.
Maybe he had taken a turn for the better.
With some slight strain, he leapt from the platform out to the exit. Well, it was not an exit before hand, but a well-placed punch made it just as effective. The Owl hooted it annoyance as sand began to pour into his library, but unfortunately could do nothing about it.
/First things first.../ Ardonius Valeron peered at himself, with a negligent flick of his hand a pool of water summoned into the hot sands, quickly becoming warm but strangely was no being absorbed instantly. A quick bath, and a caught scorpion later, the awakened lord felt much better. He found his hair a little weird, but decided to keep it so absurdly long, tieing it back with a piece of transformed cloth. Another spell transformed the surrounding sand into some clothes, and soon he was garbed in various shades of red and white robes that left him appearing like a priest of some kind. His eyes were covered by a wide, thin white cloth. His skin was a light cinnamon color, smooth and hard, tough as nails. His nails were sharp as knives, and his fangs were now gleaming.
Properly garbed, Ardonius grinned to himself as sand rose beneath his right hands, swirling together, condensing, hardening until it became a sandy-colored wooden walking stick. He truly looked the part of a travelling priest now.
/If only I knew where you were, Tiroth.../ The only sadness he had ever known stabbed the Dragonlord, who promply closed his eyes and began to walk. the first sadness pricked the barrir of Ardonius, revealing the real man underneath- a man long dead, a man who spent his life wallowing in endless sorrow. A weak man.
Important Figures
Ardonius Valeron: The single greatest Dragonlord ever born, and the most earth-shaking mortal in all history. He was born to the strange ever-illustrious House Valeron, a family whose backround is almost completely magical. In its final years, in which Ardonius was born, the magical blood was at its weakest, but potent enough that any of their children was gifted with supernatural powers. Ardonius was known for his strength, and it was a common site to see him arm-wrestling with Titans, or wrestling with Giants- bouts he won with mighty rewards. For whatever reason, he murdered his entire family and beat his younger brother, leaving him to grow strong and challenge him. He did whatever suited him, from helping people to burning towns to the ground and pillaging. He also a well-known ladiesman. His potent draconic blood led him the the path of a Dragonlord, which eventually led to his warlord status that burned three continents to the ground. Any wasteland or desert you've ever seen was probably his fault.