Riuros 22, Month of the Cold Time, First year after the Dragon Wars
I am concerned about the direction my kingdom is heading. I was rewarded for my service in the Dragon War by being enthroned as the First Lord of Volmir and The Nine were to be my advisers. It now appears that they seek to share power. They continue to push for reunion with our degenerate cousins, a path I long abandoned due to their pitiful mutation. My edicts are constantly being questioned. Their insubordination fills me with cold rage, but I must keep my face for fear of an uprising.
As I feel my own life approaching twilight, I feel this will be a truly poor end to a great saga. I feel robbed, an unheroic end to the greatest hero the world has ever known. I slew two of the Dragon Warlords and freed the elves from captivity; in the end I’ll be remembered as the first leader of the new elven kingdom…robbed of my right to rule by politicians that never led an army.
Castien does not share my bed any longer and he avoids me whenever able. He claimed that I had changed in some terrible way and he could not bring me back. I laughed at his absurd remarks; I’m more now than I ever was. In any case I need him not, as pleasurable company is at my whim should I require. Yet I seek it not. I find that I am dreaming about swimming in a vast ocean of that dark blood I consumed on the battlefield. I am crushed when I realized how I squandered that rare gift! There’s no being with the majesty of the Warlords to hunt. I’ve begun a search of all that is arcane in order to find another source of that awesome power. Surely with it I can quell the Council.
Giamonios 11, Month of Festivals, Second Year after the Dragon Wars
My research has begun to bear some fruit. Some of my searches have uncovered books thought destroyed by Malthax, from before the Wars. There are dark secrets in these books, secrets that can be unlocked by the power of royal blood. The magic in the very ink of these books is so great that I can only read the words on feast days of the gods. I shall learn more next month during Sourey’s feast.
There is one other component, something else hidden I have uncovered. My craving for the magical blood of the Warlords is growing, and for long I have feared that I would go insane for the lack of it in the world. In one of my fevered searched, something occurred to me and I have acted on it this day. Using the powerful teleportation scrolls I have in my disposal, I left my homeland and arrived in the land of Eur. The night had fallen on this side of the plane and the land was bathed in the silver light of the full moon. I had arrived at my destination: a massive pile of blackened stones. Beneath those stones, laid the burnt and broken corpse of the Dragon Warlord Ventrox. In a frenzy, I clawed away the great stones, breaking the magical enchantments protecting the vessel of my prize. After hours, I revealed the bones of Ventrox, the great and righteous leader of the Second Dragon War. Encased within the ivory cell of Ventrox’s ribcage was the blacked, charred heart of the Warlord. The creature’s will was amazing even in death, for even though his flesh had long melted away, the Warlord’s heart remained as it did the day it stopped beating over a generation ago. I broke away the bones and seized the heart of Ventrox. Much like a steak that had been flash roasted, the heart’s outer flesh was crisp and flaking. The inside, however, held the raw and bloody pulp that, even in its chilled and putrid soup, radiated power. I ate it all, revealing in the ecstasy the decaying flesh brought. Truly, Ventrox was the most powerful of the warlords, second only to Malthax himself, and I could taste it in his long dead flesh. I can’t describe intensity of the feeling. It was greater than with Eshu, perhaps because of Ventrox’s power…or perhaps death had added its own depth to the magic.
I awoke the next day, giggling under the pale sun on a damp spring morning. The power I felt those months ago remained, and was magnified. I have no doubt that The Nine will bow to my will now.