Kulbrast

Kulbrast of Lankst - Alakoring Orlanthi and Sacred Dragonslayer

Kulbrast hails from the Ormskill Clan of Lankst, in Ralios. This land is found on the borders of Ormsland, a Dragonewt kingdom, and the clan have ever been drawn to the worship of Orvanshagor Dragonslayer. You have followed in this tradition, chosen by the previous Clan Dragonslayer as the mystical Warrior/Protector of the clan. However, as of late, your dreams have been troubled by visions alluding to the rising of a huge True Dragon. As the dreams became more pervasive, you sought the counsel of the clan chiefs. Their divinations gave a clear message, so unusual in its emphasis that it could only have come from Orlanth himself. “The Dragonrise approaches. All Winds fail.  The time of the Wind Sword is at hand. The Wielder must stand at the city of the White Walls ”. You then departed from the clan, leaving them without a Protector, an unprecedented event, and a sure sign of doom, but all knew that such a sacrifice was necessary in the face of such a prophecy. You travelled east, through Maniria and into Heortland. Nowhere could you find the lore you sought, and in desperation you hunted for answers in the north, in the Jonstown Knowledge Temple, where, as if by some terrible wyrd you met others who shared a similar vision.

The Leaving...

Through the cloak of night the drums sound. A Rhythmic pulse of fear that calls through the dark as the drummers try to drive away the omens. The Dragonslayer is summoned.

None of the tribe who live today can remember the last time the Dragonslayer was called. The Dragonslayer now resides in the dark void of legend, back through the mists of Time, and is now a mere story told with much ceremony on dark nights when the winds blow in from the Nidan mountains.

But the Dragonslayer lives. He lives on in his distant descendants: far removed kin who have followed his hallowed path to Truth. He goes by another name now, but his heritage cries out to him and he knows he is chosen.

He stands now in the hall of his fathers, armoured for war, and wielding the weapons of his faith. The old Wind Lord steps forward.

“Kulbrast”, he says “you remain committed to this course?”

“I do. The Dream grows more vivid. I am called to the land of our Great Father’s victory.”

“It is the land of his death also.”

“You speak the Truth, but if death awaits me it will be mine and mine alone. I will not doom my kin.”

“The legends have ever told of the doom of the Tribe if the Dragonslayer departs. It is this that has held you in your peoples’ esteem. If you leave they will know fear and uncertainty for many seasons.”

“My destiny was set out long ago. I am called now. The dream is clear – The Dragonrise approaches.”

The older man lets out a deep breath. He raises his hands to the air and murmurs some unheard prayer to the skies. Then he turns and looks deep into the deep and rich fire burning steadily in the hearth.

“If you are called by the Gods then you must answer. If Orlanth wills it we will meet again. Fight with reverence to our Gods, my son. Carry our Wyter into battle with honour.”

The silence that greets him tells him that Kulbrast has already gone.