Mudarrib

W.I.P.

MUDARRIB Mu-dáh-rribd • Trainer • _____________________

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. Times will come. Times where I'll be able to put aside the pelt I use as headdress, and the young will know the kindness and wisdom of my face and heart before the crudeness and strength of my claws.

Venus (at the left) and the center of Via Lactea. -Atacama's Desert.

POEM 20 (fragment) -P.Neruda Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. Escribir, por ejemplo: "La noche está estrellada, y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos". El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta. Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso. En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos. La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito. Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería. Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos. Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido. (...)

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HOARD Cerdae Sparkle Organics Cerdae shed has fallen out of favor as a light source in recent years. Recent acquisitions of the material produce a sickly red glow. 48 Redblood Sapper Plant A virulent bloom, prized for the deep red dye it can produce; abhorred for its tendency to strangle other plants and take over a field. 42 4 Jasper Minerals & Ores The vibrant red has earned this variety the nickname ''Bloodstone''. 120

B I O G R A P H Y Dungeon just dreamed with a peaceful world, without wars. He had a spouse and children. But he also had the bad luck of being born as Canon Fodder, and the bad luck that his minimal chances of being used for something different after being sold at the slave market, faded when he was bought by a Plague clan. Plague. The only thing he knew about them was that it was a Warmonger flight. But that clan offered something a bit different at least: to be a trainer for those unfortunate enough to be sent to the Wyrmwound shrine. He had no other choice. It was that or take the risk again and being taken by other clans to be prepared for first line combat. But he found himself in a small, just recently founded clan. And he was the lucky one to help them build things up. The leaders trained with him, but he never understood what were their desires and goals for the clan. Dungeon finally gave up understanding and forgot about that, focusing in his own task. It was curious, and interesting at least, how such a small clan did grow and spread its element with such Pride, Diligence... and speed. With his help. He had become the main trainer of the clan, and he has the task of teaching the ropes of combat to young ones by training them in the mires, thing that he does right and efficiently. Some of the greatest Plaguebringer's warriors had trained under his claw's guidance. Even being an Arcane dragon, he wasn't treated different to other clan's members, and after a year, he thought that he got used to the Plague lands. But he suddenly felt something ill: at first he felt tired, then actually sick, and noticed green, disgusting blisters growing in his skin, leaving great scars. His scales turned of a more dull red than normal, and he lost the beautiful black-colored patterns of his wings. But as no one in his Plague clan was scared of him while he was still sick and had an horrible aspect, he felt a strong bound between he and the clan that still loved and appreciated him for his inner power and his duty. He understood that the Plague love the inner strength more than the external beauty, and he knew he could never leave his new home. He took the name Mudarrib and forgot about any other life and duty that he could have had, and focused into the only duty that his new home called him for. Even if sometimes he still dreams with a peaceful life far away any dominance battle, that dream started to fade within the Bless of the Plaguebringer.

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Zahratsam (Flower's Venom): 1st Cross. Enslaver's Nemesis. Prodigious Fighter. Guardian's Line Progenitor, lvl 25 Wyrmwound Veteran.

Fedayin: 2nd Cross. First Follower Warrior. Sacrifices himself to secure the Rise of the Clan. Lvl 25 Wyrmwound Veteran.

Fedayin: 3rd Cross. Creator of the Guardian's Guard. First Guarding Guardian. Unexpectedly Related to Guardian's Line Progenitor Zahratsam, lvl 25 Wyrmwound Veteran.

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Alzuhur ('s Flower): Progenitor of the Guardian's Line. Lvl 25 Wyrmwound Veteran.


Calma: Progenitor of Guardian's Line. Lvl 25 Wyrmwound Veteran.


Dans (Cliff): Progenitor of Guardian's Line. Lvl 25 Wyrmwound Veteran.


Amal (Hope): Progenitor of Guardian's Line. Lvl 25 Wyrmwound Veteran.




THE STANDING ARMY CHALLENGE

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2nd mass exaltation of Guardians: the ones who chase the Airam:

Plague Runestone Dragonmade An ancient stone bearing the ancestral rune of the Plaguebringer. Such a find should be kept as a prized possession. 110 Kamaitachi Blades Organics Hard, heavy, and incredibly sharp. 50 Scratch Energy Stone A low damage scratching attack that generates some Breath. 25 Required Level: 1 Strength ██████████ Dexterity ██████████ Vitality ██████████ Intelligence ██████████ Mind ██████████ Charisma ██████████

FAKHAR A name that means "Pride". Punish our enemies, fight with pride and never lose your honor! Feel the weight of the blood in your claws, and be your own light in the shadows we've decided to inhabit! Fakhar is a coolheaded and silent dragon, but her calculating gaze seems to be always filled with deep distrust and bitterness. Being a guardian, she is frequently seen working as guide and protector of the clan's hunting parties or merchant's caravans, task she genuinely enjoys, specially when she takes contact with the more mundane stuff, like helping to carry items and hearing the stories of the merchants in the trading posts. That particular interest turned her into very close friends with the clan's guide Malja, in whose presence she becomes a particularly smiling and empowered dragon, usually breaking into a loud and proud swearing of her protection and allegiance to the clan as she felts suddenly full of vitality and faith.

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Brown Birdskull Headdress Apparel A hefty skull headdress, decorated with brown tribal ribbons, threads, feathers, and beads. Wise dragons warn against the mystical and primal energies that surround pieces like this. 550 Strength ██████████ Dexterity ██████████ Vitality ██████████ Intelligence ██████████ Mind ██████████ Charisma ██████████

MALJA A name that means Flaxen You shouldn't strain yourself too much. Take a rest if needed. Being a Route Guide, he routinely travels across the Boneyard, from the clan's Pyramid to the trading posts scattered around the Guarding Ones' territory. Although his job requires it, he almost lacks social abilities to the point he often can't even recognize other dragons faces or names, being a rather quiet and lonesome dragon. However, Malja is set in his job because he's incredibly skilled when recognizing the ever-changing landscapes and routes of the Plagued Wastelands, always guiding the clan's caravans safely across the Boneyard to their destinations. Due to his introvert character and rather small size, he's bad at organizing great groups or keeping them in cohesion while in travel, but he happily relies in Fahkar and the other guardians to help him do his work without setbacks. When resting, he enjoys to sit apart of the group, quietly talking with Fahkar alone about anything mundane: about the night's weather, about the shapes of the vases, about the flavor of the water. Fahkar often hears him mumbling about the travels, noticing the gentle smile of the tundra under his birdskull, and she smiles too. Covers, linen blankets for a comfortable and warm rest. Sugar and Maize to recover energies and prepare the travelers in face of new cruises. And the spirit, strong and willing to live, as the Plaguebringer teaches. -The traveler.

Plague Runestone Dragonmade An ancient stone bearing the ancestral rune of the Plaguebringer. Such a find should be kept as a prized possession. 110 Plaguebringer Bone Scrimshaw Trinkets A menacing engraving of the Plaguebringer. It is scrawled on the side of a large bonespike and reeks of decay. 105 Buccaneer's Cutlass Apparel This cutlass is used more for decoration than anything else. 0 Strength ██████████ Dexterity ██████████ Vitality ██████████ Intelligence ██████████ Mind ██████████ Charisma ██████████

HALAK Means "Perdition" ___________________ The ghostly thoughts of a loner, Wandering Guardian. As those who Wander Away Will be Lost in the Boneyard. And their bodies, minds and souls Will Become One with the Wastelands. But if they don't... We Will Thrive. We will follow the Path of the Cross. ...... ...

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Plague Runestone Dragonmade An ancient stone bearing the ancestral rune of the Plaguebringer. Such a find should be kept as a prized possession. 110 Battered Shields Trinkets Scavenged and refit multiple times, these shields have yet another new owner. 65 Strength ██████████ Dexterity ██████████ Vitality ██████████ Intelligence ██████████ Mind ██████████ Charisma ██████████

THUEBAN means "Snake" Mahjur came from far away across the Contagion, and was found wounded to death in the proximity of a beastclan's post. As soon as she felt healed, she realized that her charge was the Wyrmwound itself. Prevented by instinct, clanmates and even popular knowledge, she knew she wasn't prepared to reach the sanctuary by herself, so she stayed to be trained by the martial masters of the clan, and during those training sessions she met Khatwatanmin. Khatwat was born in-clan, as son of two young mercenaries which were recruited in the neutral post to be part of the early explorer company of the southern Marshlands. As his parents didn't have much of a spare time, he and his brothers were under care of the clan's masters, raised and trained to serve the Plaguebringer. By the moment Mahjur felt ready to move on, they already had children which were educated as adept followers of the clan. Khatwat and Mahjur rose flight to serve the Plaguemother together, letting their children choose their own future. Thueban is a polite and lawful dragon, always attentive and ready to obey his masters. Often called "Culebra" as a kind of small and harmless serpent, he is rather unexpectedly resilient and strong for his kind, energy and speed wrought in countless battles as he joins the hunts and patrols by nightime. Is unlikely for outsider dragons and their descendants to be allowed permanent residence and instruction within the clan, but as Thueban grew there, surrounded by the strict codes of warriors and philosophers, he eventually became another disciplined guardian. He responds to his duty with pride and swift diligence, channeling his infinite energy into a deep devotion towards the clan leaders. He knows that only the more trustworthy individuals are chosen to form part of the Guardians. But he doesn't know that guardians are also so closely related to the clan that is hard to avoid consanguinity between them, and thus he, Thueban, is considered by the leaders as "a breath of fresh blood" within the guards.

Leather Neck Wrap Apparel Strips of leather designed to be wrapped around the wearer's neck. There is enough material in this roll to accommodate even the longest spine. 1000 Plaguebringer Bone Scrimshaw Trinkets A menacing engraving of the Plaguebringer. It is scrawled on the side of a large bonespike and reeks of decay. 105 Traditional Broadsword Apparel Gets the job done without any frills. Disclaimer: May get the job done with frills depending on dragon breed. 2000 Strength ██████████ Dexterity ██████████ Vitality ██████████ Intelligence ██████████ Mind ██████████ Charisma ██████████

ALAM means "Pain" ____ Noticeable member of the extremist faction of the Guardian's Clan. The leaders already have their claws over him. But they know he's just the tip of the iceberg. Only the elders can decide what to do about the faction. The elders stay silent. That who inflict meaningless pain, that who is slave of fear, that who doesn't value Life and its will, all of that doesn't deserve to be called "living being". Don't deserve something as beautiful and complex as Life if can't appreciate it. ...They don't deserve Life...

Plaguebringer Bone Scrimshaw Trinkets A menacing engraving of the Plaguebringer. It is scrawled on the side of a large bonespike and reeks of decay. 105 Traditional Broadsword Apparel Gets the job done without any frills. Disclaimer: May get the job done with frills depending on dragon breed. 2000 Strength ██████████ Dexterity ██████████ Vitality ██████████ Intelligence ██████████ Mind ██████████ Charisma ██████████

ALSAMZURU ____________________ We use our own power to fight. To protect. As everything fades into madness, In middle of desperation and war. We protect life Using the power of life. Don't fear your own power, you will have to make use of it. Born as a natural fighter in our clan, Alsamzuru is like an unpolished diamond. No being alone is capable of exposing all of his talent for combat. He's been raised and trained like an elite warrior, being under care and taking lessons from all of our guardians, masters and trainers. Loyal and Faithful, he follows and obeys with no doubt all of the leader's orders, and thus is always watchful waiting for more from his masters, even if has been a long time since the last call that he received... One of the strongest, more cold-minded guardians of our clan. Mostly respected and feared by his absolute devotion to the clan's leaders, seconded by rumors of his unparalleled combat prowess. It's said that he's more likely a Weapon of the Clan rather than an actual Living Being.

Lots of raw lore:

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Son of the First Cross.
(all exalted crosses are lvl 25 Plaguebringer's Elite's Warriors)

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Pact of the Sunset Cross.

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Soledad. ¿Qué lugar puede ser mas solitario que el desierto? Eso es un desierto: la encarnación en roca y viento de la soledad.

Aún así la vida prospera: veloz o ágil o resistente o tímida, siempre oculta y disminuida.

Extrañamente, los guardianes del desierto son los más atentos a aquellas delicadas pizcas de vida su alrededor. Tal vez por eso fueron quienes se percataron de que ésta era mera esclava de los dioses. Ellos lucharían para curarla y protegerla, en prosperidad que la armaba y decadencia que la fortalecía.

Bajo la cruz del atardecer reconocieron y firmaron las leyes. Crearon el Clan.

Guerreros de la cruz, aquellos que eran mortales, y no lo eran. Los que buscan el significado, y mantienen el equilibrio. Los que habrían de luchar por la verdadera libertad, por la verdadera Vida. Aquellos que partieron en siete caminos que jamás se habrían de encontrar.

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La 6ta y el 7mo guerrero comprendieron que debían luchar. El poder debía mantenerse dividido, y seguir la misma regla que todo ser viviente: Solo el más apto sobreviviría.

Pero los dioses mismos intervinieron en la lucha, intentando controlar aquello que surgió de los desechos de su creación, intentando tomar nuevamente provecho de algo que jamás fue parte de su jurisdicción.

Los guerreros se detuvieron y observaron a su alrededor: demonios y energía divina esperando ansiosos por tomar el poder que dejaría la caída del primer alma neutral. Sonrieron, enseñando los dientes, cerrando los ojos, rieron a carcajadas, como un agitar convulso de la vida dentro de sí mismos negándose a ser comida de cosas sin vida.

No, jamás los controlarían.

Había que preparar a la vida, guiar su rumbo y protegerla. Tomar el poder de los elementos para fortalecerla y armarla en la batalla contra los dioses. E instigar a la destrucción absoluta de todo demonio, por la verdadera libertad de los seres vivos. Para que la lucha por vivir continúe hasta alcanzar la perfección absoluta o no quede más energía. Lo que ocurra primero. Ningún ente no-vivo debe poner fin al ciclo, al mundo.

Somos mortales, y fuerza divina al mismo tiempo. El poder de los dioses, arrebatado, en manos de sus esclavos. Jamás les será devuelto, aunque maldigan los desechos de su propia creación, éstos han de destruirlos, y destruirse entre sí para prosperar por sobre las limitaciones que el mundo puede imponer.

Caeremos, viejos y débiles, pero nuestro poder siempre pasará como todo trato en un ser vivo: es más fácil morir y dejar descendencia, que ser inmortal y luchar incansablemente.

Por eso venceremos: somos seres vivos. Y los dioses no tienen valor ni significado sin el poder que toman de nosotros.

La primera cruz vengaría la vida.
La segunda nacería de ella.
La tercera protegería su hogar.
La cuarta comprendería su significado.
La quinta la ayudaría en su camino.
La sexta vigilaría su libertad.
La séptima lucharía por ella.

Las siete cruces se observaron en silencio y asintieron en una reverencia, temiendo por el cuello de cada uno ser cortado por el otro. Sin embargo los siete se mantuvieron inmóviles, y luego de un minuto y un profundo suspiro de confianza, se alzaron y observaron a su alrededor, con un brillo de esperanza en sus miradas. Lucharían por la libertad y el balance. Nada les detendría hasta que la vida pudiese forjar su propio destino.

El primer guerrero hizo su trabajo entonces, vengando a los esclavos de los dioses, devolviendo al ciclo la materia y energía perdida para que ésta pudiese volver a ser realmente vida.

El tercer guerrero recorrió el territorio ya limpio y lleno de potencial y, como uno más entre las tribus liberadas, alzó una fortaleza para proteger al clan y formar a los guardianes.

La cuarta guerrera se sumergió en la vida, se unió a ella y la siguió a lo largo y ancho de todos los territorios. Había algo en común en la vida de todo. Tomó todos los significados, todos los porqués y todos los para qués, y todas las leyes que guían a cada forma de vida fueron comprendidas.

El quinto guerrero siguió el camino de la vida para encontrarla, pisó el inestable mundo junto a ella y le dio la mano para ayudarla a proseguir cuando los demonios intentaban hacerla caer. Le enseñó a caminar, a ser precavida y jamás dejarse imponer un fin.

La sexta guerrera observó desde la distancia, estudió cada movimiento y vigiló los movimientos de esclavos y dioses por igual, cerrando los ojos y sintiendo las cadenas que nuevamente perturbaban la vida.

El séptimo guerrero abrió su camino entre las vidas perdidas, fijó su mirada en el verdugo y cortó la cadena que sostenía y la que lo ataba en un solo movimiento. Se quitó la máscara y asestó el golpe final al demonio. No sería ni el primero ni el último.

La segunda cruz nació entonces. Deseosa de vivir y aprender, y sobretodo luchar contra las cadenas que buscaban atarle. Jóvenes guerreros que serían la vida misma.

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Pero el primer y séptimo cruz observaron a su alrededor. La lucha cada vez más feroz, los esclavos cada vez más monstruosos, la vida vomitando cada vez más poder divino en la maldición que los dioses le influían sin parar. Debemos trabajar sin parar. Limpiar cada cuerpo, cada mente y cada alma. ...Y debemos cortar de raíz el problema.

Hubo conflicto entre los guardianes, pues las reglas les impedían intervenir en la formación y extinción de la vida.

Pero era necesario. Se debía permitir. Pero cual era el límite?

Se permitió. La primera y la séptima cruz se alzaron como un ejército en armas, convertidos en exterminadores de cuanta pizca de maldad pudiese estarse incubando en las mentes de aquellos que fueron influenciados por los demonios.

Tras la terrible masacre, los demonios quedaron sin adoradores, sin fuentes de las que tomar poder. La materia y energía que ya no podían manipular volvió al ciclo natural y la vida se fortaleció. Los cruces aplicaron meticulosamente y con éxito sus ideales entre los demás seres vivientes, forjando pueblos y naciones donde la vida podría perdurar eternidad en comprensión, libertad y equilibrio. Los demonios se deshicieron en el pasado.

El vengador alzó la mirada con orgullo entonces y, deseando extender su conquista, observó en el horizonte nuevos objetivos que eliminar. El luchador le observó en silencio, había algo que no comprendía en su compañero. O mas bien comprendía, pero no podía permitir, o al menos los demás guerreros no lo permitirían. Deberás continuar por tu cuenta. Sé cuidadoso, Le dijo mientras volvía al territorio del clan.

El vengador alzó la voz entonces, por vez primera en su vida. Sabes que no me detendrás. Que encarnaré una y otra vez como cualquiera de ustedes. Así que no perdamos el tiempo, acabemos con esto ya, para que podamos simplemente vivir de una vez por todas.

¿Vivir? El séptimo guerrero se volvió y lo observó. Había confusión en su mirada, como si el significado de algo importante no fuese suficiente para darle real importancia. Pero quería darle esa importancia.

Sí, vivir. Ya no me basta con luchar, con liberar a los malditos ni matar a los esclavizadores. No somos entes como ellos. Somos mortales también, y sin darnos cuenta nos han arrebatado nuestras propias vidas. Destruyámoslos a todos, para por fin poder vivir nuestras vidas también.

No. Como guerreros y protectores no lo permitirían. Nos convertimos en entes sin vida, en armas, precisamente para esto. No has de vivir, ninguno de nosotros.

Hubo silencio, pero ambos guerreros desenvainaban sus armas, sus propios cuerpos, sus almas, afilaban sus mentes. Espero poder convencerte, más tarde, de lo necesario que es ésto. Dijo el vengador apuñalando el cuerpo y alma de su compañero. Lo mismo digo, nos veremos mas tarde. Respondió el guerrero, pulverizando a su camarada antes de caer, pero un último sentimiento perturbó a la séptima cruz: la sexta lo sabría?

Los guerreros desaparecieron. Pero el clan no esperaba su reencarnación. En conjunto entrenaron un grupo selecto de mortales. Les dejaron toda su sabiduría pues el tiempo se acababa y solo los seres vivos podrían sostener el legado y la lucha de los siete guerreros. La vida misma ahora criaba y enseñaba a sus guardianes. Siempre esperando el regreso de quienes la habían liberado y guiado por primera vez, resistiéndose eternamente a desaparecer devorada por los demonios.

El clan aún mantiene la lucha de los guardianes, tal vez sin darse cuenta de que una facción cada vez mas poderosa sigue el camino ensangrentado de la primera cruz.