One thousand years, and Drakon laid in ruins, far from the power it once held, of knowledge vast that decorated its deepest sanctum, a collection endowed from its very beginning, from as old as ancient tablets, to scrolls, books, and artifacts.

Its halls laid dormant, once filled in song, pride, and strength, was a silent husk that beckoned null but the wind that graced its halls.

Yet, its origin was well and truly alive, filled in somber memories, and courageous ballads, marking the great keep that called it home after centuries of bloodshed.

At the arrival of humans in the land called Drakon, it was the last bastion mankind sought in its great conquest of what is now "Faulon." The Eyru had left. The bargs, serpents, wyvern, and drakes that called it home were nothing but the armor, weapons, and walls built by their skin.

The age of the beast was over, a bloody war that spanned centuries, from a vast woodland that sparked memories that would last a dozen millenias. By its end, there was only grasslands, the barren land forged by humans. In its emptiness, the beasts had left, left to slither in the dark, to passages, caverns, seas, and mountains. 

Centuries after the war, there was little to make of their absence, absence of the great roars, scratches, screams, and flames. So long did their sounds prove silent, that,the beasts would soon be nothing but tales, an exaggeration of mankind's feats in the conquest of the new world. Yet, the one thing that was never made certain was how the war truly ended. The only truth was the lingering silence that came after.

Yet, Drakon was a new land, a foreign land, stretching northwest of the territory of man, a mountainous woodland that man claimed as their own, but for the centuries since the war's end, no one dared to enter it, for its mountainous terrain, and conifer forests built a mystery. A cold chill shrouded the land in mist, a mist that soaked and hid any sign of sunlight, and any attempt for a fire.  That is, until the name "Talrin" ruled its borders.

Lord Talrin, claimant of the city named "Dranuuk," now called Frostford, sought to expand his territory northwest into the uncharted land that laid there. As a boy he was fascinated by its expanse, of the chimering blue mountains topped in ice and snow, to the beauty of it's sprawling trees that grew as tall as the hills in the country side, yet slim like long fingers. He dreamed of the treasures that may lay there, of caverns filled with coppy, silver, and gold, or of ancient ruins of the long fled Eyru, with advanced technology in the field of agriculture and warfare. Perhaps even those highly advanced beings still claimed it as their home, and their knowledge could then be shared to the humans.

His family believed his dream futile, a waste of potential to use elsewhere, such as stabilizing the vast territory his family already held, namely ensuring prosperity at the time of winter, but he was determined to be the first ruler to claim it as his own.

As the Dranuuk territory passed on to him, this became one of his primary ambitions. First, he ensured that his fellow council men approved, which took many attempts, but after five years, his resources were set to make his dream a reality.

By then, scouts had already tracked its nearest portions, marking the many caverns, rivers, animals, and ancient Eyru relics. Yet, as his armies were ready to track what was held within, many things were still uncertain, a reality that would stain what marked its beginning.

The first landmark was made, an established trail connected to various sources of potential wealth. It was soon dubbed "the red ravine", a trail of human blood. By the time Lord Talrin's scouts returned, it was far too late. Of the five hundred that braved the expanse, only three had returned, and only two survived the night of their arrival.

Vengeance brewed in Talrin, angered by the guilt of the many dead, but it would not falter his pursuit. No, it would only brew it further.

The other northern Lords believed him mad, that the deaths were due to landslides, floods, bandits, disease, or the bitter cold. Not once were Lord Talrin's claims of monsters taken to heart.

As such, the allegiances formed by his forefathers were of little use. He was to take the effort alone, as would his people, but even they doubted, demanding the truth of what happened to those men.

In response, he ordered those who openly doubted to seek refuge in the new tracked territory to see for themselves. Most, to his dismay, prospered, and in that prosperity, his dream was fulfilled. His territory had expanded, carrying the vast lumber, stones, gems, and foreign crops, allowing his land to prosper. Yet, he took no pleasure in his victory. He felt nothing but shame. His family was right, he was told, and until his death, his dreams of monsters to one day claim his new territory never transpired. Not, at least, until his children came to rule, one of the many doubters.

His son, by then called Lord Talrin II, much as he defaced his father's legacy, sought to continue his investments in the foreign lands of Drakon, seeking expeditions further north. By then, villages had been well established by riversides and mines. Dranuuk became the capital to a prosperous region, opening up to the vast northern sea trade of the  Greymerian isles.

All was presumed well, or at least at first --- until another expedition was made even further northwest. Just as before, new caverns, rivers, animals, and other ancient relics were discovered beyond Talrin II's territory, and just as before, the curse of the expeditions would soon commence. This time, however, a thousand men were sent in, as by then many were eager to seek fortune, as Lord Talrin II promised them. Just as his father, the mistake could not he undone; a new passage was stained by human blood. This time, however, not only did the expedition fail, but villages were quickly decimated, entire communities ravaged and emptied by the time any help would arrive. All the progress Lord Talrin's father made were undone, as were any riches he hoped to gain, yet he was yet again unable to determine what caused the massacre. He then dedicated his life to finding the truth, and just as his father, he was scorned and seen as a madman, that it was nothing more than a family curse.

All that changed, however, in the following decades, for what occurred in Drakon began to occur elsewhere. First, in the countryside of Dranuuk, with patrols finding villages empty of all its inhabitants, then to the cattle and crops turning up missing, until more regions began to experience the same issue. It was clear, then, that whatever occurred in Drakon had cursed the entire kingdom of Lorlyn, and the monarchy wouldn't allow it to happen again. Something woke in that land, but no man who wished to maintain authority could ever admit it.

Armies were specialized to discover the cause of the missing citizens, an effort ordered for the entire kingdom and its vassals, until the reality was clear: Lord Talrin was right.  Monsters did exist.

It was from then on that the descendants of Dranuuk developed a warlike culture against said monsters, until their knowledge became specialized, seeking the weapons of the ancients that faced said monsters in the great beast war.

Drakon would develop a keep towards a mountain ridge bordering the uncharted territory that remained of Drakon, a final bastion to the unknown that laid the further northwest one went, which was dubbed "Drakonstead".

They would then grow fame in helping to address the "monster problem" that was occurring in the countryside, until the entire nation funded Drakonstead to deal with the problem, welcoming anyone that could prove themselves a worthy advisory to the monsters that once called Faulon their home.