++ About ++
Imagine, if you will, a world created by Chaos.
Imagine a world ruled by starlit gods, by magic, by dragons.
Imagine a world where darkness, light, and even the grey between struggle with, for, and against a necessary balance.
Imagine a world...in order.
There is no more war, for through war came peace.
Though armoured knights patrol city streets, the citizens need not fear; for these dark souls obey a code of honour as stringent as any held by those of light. They do not rape, nor steal, nor kill without reason. Only the ungrateful and disobedient will fall to the merciless blade, and for the good of all. Even the mighty oak grows from but a tiny seed - so, too, is it with dissent. Strike it down before it can take root, and fewer will suffer for their misguided sins.
There is law, and when it is broken, there is justice. Those who mete it out are subject to their own. There is no corruption, for the corrupt are removed immediately from office. There is merely order; held firm by steely fists, guarded by the watchful eyes of dragons, and presided over all by She of Many Names, of Many Colours, the Five-Headed Drake -
Our Dark Majesty, Takhisis.
Such was the dream of Ariakan, son of the Dragon Highlord Ariakas and the sea-goddess Zeboim - whose own mother was Darkness Herself. Having seen firsthand that evil, unable to unite its factions and stand as one against the forces of good, was its own downfall, he concocted a plan: Utilizing the knowledge gleaned while in the confidences of light, he would create a new Order; an Order devoted to order. No fractured army would be this; no self-proclaimed officers who might war amongst themselves to gain the upper hand, and in doing so, cause all to lose. No, this would be an elite force, chosen by hand for devotion, for strength, for submission. The novices would answer to their advocates; the advocates to their commanders; the commanders to their lords; their lords to Ariakan; and Ariakan to Takhisis. There would be a Vision. There would be a Code. There would be an Oath in blood.
And when the secret son of Sturm and Kitiara, the greatest of Solamnics and the most charming of Highlords, took that oath, the forces of light wept as one; for the brightest blade had become tarnished steel.
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