This tale has been told since the Ancient Days in the time of wyverhome, the world in which the Wyverns took to dwell in and create their legacy upon. Ten lands it had; Doragokuni was the greatest and the first true wyvernhome, and all great legends spiraled from it. The tale which I shall tell is biblical and should be read as such; no such action and words as should not be said shall be writ, and you shall read it as such.

Beginning, First DayEdit

In the Beginning, there were the Twelve Mighty Dragons. They were given each one Wyvern Blade of Creation by the leader, Fyrulosor, and told to think long and for many days ere the great clash began in which the world of dust which they had been given would be split, and cut, and carven, and shaped, and graven would be its face as its back was dark. For one hundred very short years, the Mighty Dragons in their spirit forms pondered; for gods of such power it was hardly any time, and young they looked still, almost as children; but children they were not and they were to shape the world in the image of Fyrulosor.

It came the day to build the world. But long had Fatalithe and Tuskurai among the good strayed in thought to dark places, seeking what was hidden deep in shadow, and seeking knowledge of the dark horrible places of the world. Good they were at first, and yet not so, for their dark thoughts fell unto their swords and they glowed different as they sung. And these following are the words they sung:

Far over great Mountains cold,
Far over the Green-Plain fold;
Over the Sea that never dies,
Up to wyverns cleaving Sky,
Cleave now, shape it
With thy blades
Make the world your own and dwelleth,
Ever on until thy meet Dark-ness,
For now this place is all your own.
Each of we who sing alone,
Never sleep on the air's sweet head,
Never until stone is dead.

The song was great in sound and performance and the blades danced and shone and smote one another as the flurry clashed through the metallic skies, slowly forming Mountains, and Plains, and Seas, and Skies. To each who carved, Fyrulosor was bidden give them and their heirs, who became mortal wyverns under the dealing while the True Wyverns remained in the Heavenly Lands, a land of their own, similar to what they carved. The wyvern's people would be carved in a likeness of it, and would be great. But a great uncouth sound in the singing told of dark lands in dark shadows in dark caves, and none dared listen save the few who would dare fall under Fatalithe's sway.

Thus passed the mighty Clash, and began the Settling of the world. Fyrulosor's people, the Limestaen and the Human and the Wyverian, settled down across the lands, with the Limestaen sailing wondrously from the Heavenly Lands unto Doragokuni, and there they settled. The Wyverians went from the Heavenly Lands into Minegarde, and thus to Moga, and thus to many other greater lands. The Humans spread from the places they appeared, and soon were everywhere, and their blood seldom mixed with Wyverian or Limestaen.

But the evil influence of Fatalithe and Tuskurai continued until at last they rose up in a mighty war, and when all hope had faded from the face of his enemy, Fatalithe began to hew a last stroke upon his battered brow. But Elrasil, Blade of Fyrulosor, was more quick, and spliced the back of Fatalithe in his manlike form, and ever after his blackened back was split asunder so that if viewed from behind, it seemed two mighty fins went from his back to his chest and there failed. The wound pained him for ever after.

It was then that the Creation ended, and the Blades were made true, and each one became as a spirit that took a form of man. Fyrulosor later imprisoned himself inside his blade, after the death of Elrasil; Anobon was Fatalithe's blade; Elrasil's dead spirit, when finally it took shape again, took shape as the Masuta; Tuskurai's blade was known as an entity called Arteg, later Artex Invaded for Arteg had taken his body and used it as a vessel; many of the swords ever after are lost and only their gems remain, hidden items of great worth.