TAHAROS
Taharos
Taharos and his parents were scavengers of Mok Ghul. Trapped within the cursed mists that surrounded Mok Ghul, Cyclopes and Dragons were forced to fight in a vicious cycle of eat or be eaten and kill or be killed.
And on one fateful day, three dragons ambushed them. Taharos tried to help his parents fight, but they threw him back. As he tried to do what he could to fight, Taharos’ parents were struck by the dragons flames and attacked viciously.
Taharos was flung back from the blast and was protected by the rocks in front of him. He was helpless to watch as his parents were killed by the dragons. Taharos needed to run to them. He didn’t believe that they were gone. He sprinted to their bodies, and found that they were lifeless.
Overwhelmed with panic and enraged by the loss of his parents, Taharos grabbed his father’s axe, then his mother’s dagger.
As he grabbed the dagger, its purple gem shined. He gasped as he felt a swell of power. His eye glowed violet as the dagger’s gem hummed with energy.
Charging forward, Taharos leaped from rock to rock and jumped from the cliff edge.
He struck down each of the three dragons, and as they collapsed he pulled his weapons from their body and landed without injury.
Breathing heavily, the light in his eye faded as the dagger hummed. He saw a black mist leave the wounds of the dragon and enter the gem of the blade. Somehow, the dead dragons energies were siphoned into it.
He hid in the forests and made what little shelter he could. He killed what he could for food, and ate what he had to for survival. Then, he saw a dragon. Sneaking up on it, Taharos plunged the axe into its side.
The dragon fought back, clawing at Taharos’ shoulder and tearing into his armor and flesh. Screaming through the pain, Taharos stabbed the dragon repeatedly with the dagger. Each wound leaked the black mist, and with each strike Taharos could feel himself getting stronger.
Taharos’ eye shined purple as he struck the dragon and landed a fatal blow, and down the beast went. Panting from the battle, Taharos watched as the gemstone siphoned more of the black mist from the dead dragon.
His axe was charred and burnt, halfway destroyed. As he reached for it he heard a cooing noise from beyond the forest edge. Taharos carried his weapons with him and readied himself for another fight.
As he peered past the foliage, he saw a young, scared baby dragon in its mother’s nest. He dropped his weapons and fell to his knees as the little creature looked up at him, afraid. Taharos reached out to the dragon and cradled it carefully in his arms.
He had fought the vile beasts that took his parents, and the dragon of the woods, but this? He couldn’t do it… He had to save it.
He was happy.
And he wanted it to stay this way forever.
But fate had other plans...
Months past, and invaders attacked them. Taharos held his own, but his dragon began to rampage against the attackers. Killing several of them, Taharos watched in horror as he remembered the beasts that killed his parents.
Screaming out for the dragon to stop, the beast turned its gaze towards him. Its bloodshot red eyes were lost in bloodlust, and it turned to attack Taharos, forgetting who its master was. Forced to protect himself, Taharos swung his axe into the beast’s skull.
Splitting it in two, Taharos watched as the dragon fell dead before him. Tears streaming down his face, Taharos collapsed and watched in horror as he saw the body of the dragon — the body of one of his only friends — now reduced to nothing more than a dead beast.
Taharos felt the injury of his wounds and needed to wash himself clean of the blood he was now covered in.
Seeing a nearby stream through the foliage, Taharos went to bathe. There he saw a figure, and he drew his blade.
Taharos’ confusion was short lived as he raced back to see his parents. They truly were gone, and Taharos mourned for them. He buried them and spoke a prayer for them both before taking what meat he could from the dragons. Having lost everything, Taharos fled.
Raising the dragon as his own pet, Taharos put aside his quest for vengeance. He was fully ready to start a new life, existing as one of the first in Mok Ghul to ever tame one of the wild dragons.
An elder cyclops, Kho Wren, greeted him. Taharos put down his weapons and they spoke of the dragons. Staring at Taharos’ armor, the elder asked Taharos what he noticed about the burn marks.
Confused, Taharos looked at the burnt bloodstained pelts and made a shocking realization.
“Their blood doesn’t burn.”
Kho Wren showed Taharos the red markings on his face and arms. They were runes etched into his skin, and they were made from dragon blood.
Shocked at this realization, Taharos asked the man what doing this would do. The man tells him it would do nothing to you except poison you. That is, without the ritual.
Curious, Taharos asked Kho Wren what the ritual was, and the elder explained it all to him. By uttering the proper incantation, and submerging oneself into the blood of dragons, one could meld its strength to their own body.
Taharos shot up, clenching his fists and staring at the man.
“There is blood… Give me the ritual.”