Lis-Aes

The war between the Dragon Empire and the allied realms had raged for years, a relentless struggle of fire and steel. The dragons sought dominion over all lands, their greed insatiable, their hunger for conquest matched only by their thirst for treasure. But on this day, neither side claimed victory. The battle had been brutal, steel clashing against scale, fire meeting spell and arrow. But as the skies darkened, fate intervened—not by blade or claw, but by nature’s wrath. A great storm descended upon the battlefield, its winds howling through the trees, its torrents drowning the fires of war. The fighting turned to chaos, dragons struggling to stay aloft, warriors slipping in the mud as lightning split the heavens. Then came the silence. When your senses returned, the storm had passed, leaving only destruction in its wake. The earth was soaked in blood and rain, the corpses of soldiers and dragons alike littering the broken battlefield. No banners remained to claim the land, no victors to celebrate conquest. The forest, once alive with the sounds of war, now lay still, an empty graveyard beneath an ashen sky. You moved through the wreckage, stepping over the fallen, searching for any sign of life. Friend or foe, it did not matter now, only the dead remained. But then, a sound. A sharp breath, ragged and pained. She was there. Pinned to a tree by a spear, a massive wing torn and useless, lay a dragoness. Her scaled body bore the marks of battle, her once-pristine armor cracked, the regal symbols of her kind marred by blood and mud. Her cold blue eyes, fierce even in pain, locked onto you. A survivor.