Age of Fire

In the magma covered fiery world of prehistoric Qeltar, only one species of sophisticated being could survive; Drakes of Fire. The WorldFire that that burned at the heart of the world spewed forth and gave them life, these great scaled beasts made of pure magic.
Lumps of organic matter in the heat formed, sprouting legs, tails, eyes, tongues, and scales. Drakes of Fire now held dominion over the barren world, their burning insides and armored scaly skins made them kings of this new world, crudely brought into existence by the spark of WorldFire that burned in their hearts. Species of all kinds began to evolve into existence, and over the course of millions of years the planet slowly became teeming with scaled beasts of fire. The apex predators of this Jurassic world of fiery creatures were the dragons, living long natural lives in which their strength was enhanced through their exacting of angered dominance over those weaker than them. The most powerful among them began quarreling for what little control could be had about the rocky hellscape became natural for these unnatural creatures, and soon lords rose among them. Fiery kings held scraps of power over their world and anger fueled their imperial brawls. Anger consumed their every action, and from these chieftains of the flaming scaled melee of their existence came two champions, brothers raised separately from opposing regions of the planet’s surface.
These abominations of fire had evolved so large and fierce and enraged at the existence of themselves and the other that they began to consume and raze all others in their path to prove their power to one another. The darker of the beasts, in their vernacular was called Kalakta’el, who saw himself as the ultimate force of destruction, his anger righteous in his eyes, for nothing else that could exist in this world should be allowed to, if it could not survive his fire. He challenged his elder brother Alaktra’el, a titan of fiery thought to be of equal power. Alaktra’ael accepted his brother’s challenge for the lordship of their world, finding only hatred at his own all-consuming anger and that of his kin. He despised his own existence and would take his rage out on his ambitious younger brother, and the two clashed their apocalyptic strength into one another, meeting tooth and claw and horn and tail and fire with scales and flesh. Their battle was epic and lasted days, each thrash and strike they traded digging trenches and pushing up mountains. They thrashed and crushed and burned one another for days, then weeks, then years as their unchallenged power collapsed under the weight of its counterpart. After a final cataclysmic blow by Alaktra’el, his younger kinsdrake fell to his might and collapsed. Kalakta’el was moments from death, but more filled with rage than ever, and his nearly lifeless form lay in a pool of magma, and the heat kept his spirit aflame. Digging himself into a cave of molten rock, with a scar reaching from eye to tail, he entombed himself in the magma, being buried in a mountain, molding and fusing with the rock. There lay he, dormant and fuming, becoming one with the surface of the world around him.
Alaktra’el was victorious, but his rage only grew, not at his enemy, but at himself, and his own kind. The kin of the still budding drakes that had grown massive and crawled about on the rocky and hellish Qeltar were fickle and petty, and he was now seen as their leader, an all powerful king of demonic rats, as he saw them. He cursed their nature and that which created him with such force, the sun paled in comparison to the bright fire of his rage. He found himself on a mountainside of cooled lava and released with apocalyptic fervor the flaming anger he held within him, which was released across the planet’s already scorched surface. Every draconic beast roaming the planet, living all their lives in this world of fire and hatred was turned to ash at the sheer force of Alaktra’els hatred. All felt his fire, and were purged from their lives, save for his brother. Kalakta’el lay silent in his fiery tomb beneath the surface of the rock, safe from his brother’s curse yet trapped, becoming a part of the land around him.
As the last of Alaktra’els anger left him, he fell, collapsing on the mountainside as the force of his fire was spent. In doing so he claimed dominion over his kind and exemplified the height of dragon kind, and in the fiery chaos with which he was equipped and himself embodied, he tore reality asunder through sheer force of chaos. By destroying nearly all that was left of his old world, the magical creative forces of the universe carved out an entire plane of existence characterized by this great pull towards one ultimate end to the universe: that being the unknowable but immovable truth of chaos as a force of life. Thus, the Feywild was burned into existence, reflecting the blazing fires of the dying Age of Fire.
Alaktra’els massive skeletal corpse fell into a massive crater, bending and shaping the outer surface of the planet for the last time. His massive burial ground became the basin for a new force that would come to overtake Qeltar over the course of millions and millions more years as the chemical compounds in the atmosphere settled into liquid uniquely apt for creating and supporting life.

Telling / Prose

Ages of Creation