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The Dragon

  I have forgotten how long I rest on this world. Forgotten the many names they have given it, and forgotten how many raised to defy me. It was the orcs that I chose as my people. The savages born from the rotting flesh of her corpse. She was green. Like they all of her children had been. Her eyes commanded the beasts that had been born from our fights, yet her fire rang true of destruction.

  I have forgotten her name and her voice. I have forgotten the touch of her flame or the taste of her heart. While many started to hide, she was the last to fight. From the stars, to the skies, below earth and sea, and down to the deep. She fought scales of every kind. And all of their corpses birthed creatures of their own. Some of them were burned by her, few were munched by me. The world was young, and forged by the fires of our battle. Blood became the sea, and bones became the mountains. Forged and fought, I remain to live among the rot of their corpses.

  I have forgotten why we fought. Forgotten why our fire crossed the stars.

  One day, I was the last. I rested. I ruled and I fought those that dared to defy the last of our kind. It was her who fought against us all and gave birth to the very people I rule. Oh how she would hate it. How much she would despise that I of all remained and that I of all rule those that were born of her flesh.

  But they have forgotten. Forgotten to bow and kneel, forgotten to show respect to the ancient times of war and creation. Forgotten who allowed them to exist. She would hate that it is a Khan so unlike her that defies me the most. A Khan that should be honoured for I remember his name and yet he seeks my flesh. Oh she would hate him. The latest of her childs to rise and defy me, and yet she would hate him as she would me. But his battle will be in vain. His efforts of no use and his blade shattered among the very mountain I purged for them to live.

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  But they have forgotten. Forgotten the old dark that rose from the deep, the very shadows I burned for them. Burned to the earth and to boil in the sea. They have forgotten and they should thank me. Instead they cast their hate onto me, they show the very tusks, teeth and fury that are so similar to hers and they will answer such the same. Oh how I longed for the taste of her heart, for the air in her lunges and the crunch of her bones. I will never taste it again, yet their screams might be what wakes the memory once again. I will take what is mine, demand what I earned for I am the last to rule the land. Let the others hide among the stars and the deep, I was the last to be brave enough and rule with the very fire that forges our hearts. I will take a clan. I will take their ancestors and the very Khan that forged their demise. Oh how sweet victory will taste. Iron and blood will rain from the sky and heal my wounds. Their very beasts will answer my call once they see my strength. And I will taste them all.

  And when it's all done. I will rule again and they will forget. They will tell stories about the times of strife and fury, and this time I’ll make them remember that it is I who allowed them to be.

  Oh how much she would hate it. How much she would hate to see me as the last to wait for the new age to hatch. She would have forged a new area for the young of our kind. But I know better than to trust the unborn. I have felt the years closing, for soon it may be. Any year, any decade it will hatch, and I will be there to feast.

  I have forgotten its father but I remember its mother. Oh how she would hate it.

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