*Takes a puff from cigar and exhales* Pfff… Once upon a time, there was a kingdom.

Now this kingdom wasn’t all that big compared to all the others out there, but it wasn’t that small either. The people of this land were happy and peaceful. They had a lot of traderuets and such coming through their little land, so they had a wealthy and wonderuss relationship with all manner of traders and trade companies alike. Especially as they had mines that both held Gold and a special magic mineral, that would let any smith be able to create enchanted weapons and armors, without the hassle of getting a wizard to enchant it after it has been forged. Tho if you wanted a specific enchantment on em, you would need special crystals, imbued with the powers of the elements and so.

All was well and good… until HE showed up.

Grag’ull… A Brutal and Merciless Dragon of enormous size, came to the land after hearing that the kingdom had seas of gold and galore, just waiting for him to take it. But he was not just only going to take their gold, no no, he was going to Claim this land as his own. And he did.

He Burned most of the villages, slew and crushed both knights, soldiers, and civilians alike, while giving a mighty laugh. And when he came to the castle that held the king… There was nothing left, but smoldering rubble afterwards.

Now that he had taken the land with hellfire, he held it with an iron claw. He let most of the people live, in exchange for them to do his bidding. “Dig more gold out for me!, and acquire me food and drinks!, and i’ll spare you miserable magots lives!. HA! HA! HA!” He roared. And the people complieded.

Five years later. Some of the people tried to stand up against him by getting the help from heroes and mercenaries, but they stood no chance against his might and armor and scales. One fateful day, a RAT inside the “Resistance” decided to throw his own people under the axe, and tell Grag’ull where they were hiding, in exchange that he would become one of his minions. Grag’ull, after hearing what the rat had to say, smiled and lifted his right claw up and over the traitor’s head, and gave them a head pat. “How cute…” He said, before squashing them like a bug. “But i do not accept Triators”

Soon after, he went to the resistance hiding place, and killed all but ONE. A young boy, on his knees, beside a charred corpse of who might have been their parent. The boy looked up at the dragon, and the dragon looked back. The Dragon then said “Let this be a reminder, child. Mere mortals like you are no match for us of scale and fire. So take heed of what has happened here, and don’t cross me again” He said, as he unfolded his wings and took off, leaving the boy with the dead. But what Grag did not know was that he had just sealed his fate by letting that boy live. For he was the one, who would damn him for all of eternity.

Twelve years later. Grag was sleeping on his hoard of gold, until he was desturbed from his slumber by one of his minions. Someone wanted to challenge him in a fight, and they were waiting for him on the top of the tallest mountain in the land. Grag was amused, it has been so long since someone was stupid enough to fight him. But he went to the place anyway, just to see who it was.

The top of the mountain looked like someone had taken a knife and chopped the pointed part of the top off, soo there was just this sort of flat top. And it looked like someone had taken the time to make it look like an arena, with a giant cirkel to boot. On the outskirts of this circle, a cloaked individual stood. Grag sored down and landed in front of the individual with a heavy CRACK as the rock underneath broke. He looked down at the cloaked person.

“Are you the one that had the gall to challenge me?” He asked “Because then this fight won’t last very long if that’s the case”

“Yes, I'm the one that dares to challenge you!” The stranger said “But with all the evil that you have brought, we won’t fight you fairly!” He Said. And before Grag’ull could retort, he heard an explosion, and then the earth fell from underneath him, and he fell into the dark abyss below, roaring.

After a minute or so, he finally hit the bottom with a heavy boom. He got back up on his legs and was about to launch himself up again, but found out that he couldn’t. The hole he was in was too small for him to unfold his wings. But then, he felt a sering pain shoot throughout his body and roared in pain. He looked behind him and saw a large bolt from a ballista, lodged into his back. He then looked up, and it started to rain ballista bolts, which pierced his armor and hide, and he roared in pain and anger. But he was tougher than that. He grabbed onto the wall of the hole and started to climb up, and he was determined to rip and burn all of those magots asunder once he got to them. But while he was climbing, while also still getting shot at, he saw a bright light from the top.

The light came from a sword, forged of the purest of the special ore that the people of this land could find in the mines. And it was held high by the stranger who challenged Grag. And it was the boy that he let live all those years ago, and he was determined to rid his people of this menace once and for all.

The light from the sword got brighter and brighter, and Grag was about halfway to the top, until the boy, with all his might, flung the sword straight down into the abyss, aimed for the dragon's head. And before Grag’ull could do anything, the sword had pierced his skull. Slowly, Grag lost his grip on the wall, and he fell lifeless back down into the darkness again.

After a moment of silence, the people rejoiced. “The Tyrant Dragon is Dead!” one yelled. “We are finally FREE!” another yelled. Now that Grag was no more, the people went to work rebuilding their home, and reconnect with the rest of the world once more. And the boy who fell the Dragon, had his name scratched down in legends.

A happy ending, yes?. But this story isn’t about those little Rats, it's about dear old Grag. You see, while all of this was happening, a lot of beings and so and so, were watching from the shadows, or from high above. And one specific being, a powerful trickster demon, had taken a twisted liking to the dragon. So after a week had passed from when he died, the demon went to his broken and rotting corpse at the bottom of the hole, and went to work.



The demon wanted to bring him back to cause more havoc and dread, but he wasn’t going to bring him back fresh and mighty, no. As I said, this demon had a Twisted liking for Grag. He would bring him back with new powers that would enable him to cause dread and chaos wherever he went. But, after all he had done, the demon would add a little twist. Grag would no longer be a mighty dragon, he would instead be a Rotting corpse of his former self. To forever feel the Pain of his own flesh and bones rotting and decaying, to never be able to say a word that wouldn’t be a roar or a gurgle. But the demon wasn’t done, he made it so that whenever the sun’s rays would torch him, he would burst into flames, and burn until he was nothing but rotting bones on the ground. And when night would come, he would reanimate, flesh and all. Live!. Die!. Repeat!.

Now Grag had pride, you see, he would never bend the knee for anyone. So the demon added salt to the wound and said to him when he rose from the dead. “You will feel pain unimaginable for all of eternity as your body rots and decays, but there is a way for you to make it stop, and it’s quite simple really” They said, while giving a shit eating grin. “You just have to suck up your pride, and find a Master who has great Willpower, or great power over the necrotic. Then, and only then, will you find peace from the pain. It can’t be that hard to do that, can it?. Hehehehe” They said and laughed, as they disappeared into the darkness, leaving Grag to do whatever with his new found immortality.

From that point on, he became one of the many menaces of the night. He went from kingdom to kingdom, lurking in the woods and killing anything that breathes. His once mighty fire breath, was now turned to a geyser of highly acidic gas that would meld Iron, Flesh and Bone in a matter of seconds. And the horrific stench of his rotting corpse would choke the life out of everything around him. Many a heroes had tried to slay him. Some were successful, while a lot were found Dead a day or so after going out after him. This has been going on for some years now, so I wouldn't be surprised that he has gone Mad from the neverending pain.


Now, there is a lot more to tell about Grag’ull. But I only had enough time for today to tell how he came to be. So until next time. And be careful when you walk in the forest alone, you never know what might be lurking out there at night.

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