A Hero’s Story | Viride Pars of Clan Dark Star

Everyone starts somewhere. Every story has a beginning. Before saving the known world our first hero started from humble beginnings.

Viride hails from a clan of black dragon-born that live within the forests in the north of Fenwrath. His clan was formed under the rule of an ancient black dragon sometime before the Calamity. Before the events of the Calamity, dragons and dragonkin were hunted down and slaughtered. Chromatic and Metallic dragons all over the Prime Material Plane united under the rule of one ancient brass dragon they called Rukir, The Voiceless One. Rukir attempted to foster peace with the people killing his dragonkin. In the event that peace failed, Rukir took action.

When the Calamity struck the Prime, the dragon’s survival depended on their ability to fight alongside one another against the demon scourge. It was easy. A young dragonborn blood mage split from the united front forming an army of his own. Comprised of some of the best warriors in the land, he began a tireless search to attain godhood. In the history books this dragonborn would would be known as a villain that slaughtered hundreds of thousands of innocents in his quest. To the black dragonborn, and to a young Viride, he would be a religious hero. Az’eal the false god, as he would be known, was revered for his power and defiance. Az’eal was a symbol that any dragon or dragonkin could rise up against any oppressor. Az’eal wore the symbol of a blood red star with six points adorning his ebony half-plate armor. This became the symbol of the black Dragonborn clan from which Viride hails.

One dark night, a crimson star shined in the sky. This astrological phenomenon signaled the beginning of a great prophecy for Clan Dark Star. As the star beamed down onto the nest of dragonborn eggs, our hero took his first breaths of air. Hatched as the only survivor of his clutch, Viride grew into a strong warrior. His family took the circumstances of his birth as a sign of Az’eal’s return.

Not long after he grew out of adolescence a war broke out in the kingdom of Fenwrath. The human king called upon the dragonborn clans for aid. Out of the ten dragonborn clans only three answered his call. The silver dragons, the bronze dragons and the black dragons. This is where Viride got his chance to prove himself in battle.

The war raged for three long years. Viride and the rest of his clan fought viciously, taking no survivors. Clan Darkstar’s ferocity was matched in battle only by the dedication of their elvish enemies. Unfortunately dedication to an unknown cause does not stand up to a hoard of bloodthirsty dragonborn. Thousands died at the hand of Viride’s clan. Similar casualties were felt on the Clan’s side. Viride lost most of his family to this war, and those that returned to the clan home longed for more bloodshed. The resulting conflicts led to more death within the clan, until only a few remained.

About six months after the war the only people that remained within the Clan’s home were Viride, his father, his mother and a couple of loyal guards. Things were relatively peaceful, but that can never last. Viride drifted off to sleep one evening and found himself dreaming of the Calamity and of his patron Az’eal. His attention was focused on the armor and weapons worn and wielded by Az’eal himself. Deep inside his mind he heard a low voice tell him to find these artifacts. He somehow knew that this was the only way to bring honor to Clan Darkstar. This would be his mission.

Viride snapped awake to the moaning growl of the undead. Grabbing his two curved sickles, he went to war once more. Surrounded on all sides he managed to destroy each one of these invaders to his family home. As he breathed heavily covered in the gore of his new found enemies he looked toward the forest to see a woman, clad in all black fleeing into the Direwood. As Viride took a step toward her he was slammed to the ground by a source heavier than his dense form. He looked up to see the face of his father. His father’s eyes glowed the deep purple of necromantic energy. Viride’s instincts took over.

Viride slammed his sickle into the neck of his father. A gout of blood spattered across Viride’s forearm. He felt a surge of energy. The crimson blood glowed with a black energy. Viride felt a shock radiate from his chest throughout his body and into the hand that held his sickle in his father’s neck. The black tendrils of energy sparked into lightning. The lightning blasted out from Viride ending his father’s second life. Viride’s mother and the few remaining guards had all been killed in the onslaught, unable to overcome the zombie hoard. The same low voice from his dream caressed his thoughts once more. This voice told him that this was just the start of the power Viride would gain. The voice told him that if he wished for revenge he would have it and much more. All he would have to do is find Az’eal’s artifacts.

As Viride buried his family, he vowed to hunt and kill this woman clad in black. Standing over the graves of his mother and father he felt the surge of his newfound patron’s power. Unfortunately Viride always became engrossed by his own power. While engrossed he did not notice the young half-devil woman creeping up on him from the forest.

Only a little frightened, Viride would soon learn that he shared a common goal with this young half-devil. They both wanted the woman clad in black, though for different reasons. Together they would shape the world in more than a few ways.

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