The Old world was in flux. The land was echoing the turmoil brewing in the Sea of Dread. Battles raged across the barren dark lands. Twisting metal met with battle cry sounds. Old allies had turned to sworn enemies. But each great race was pushed forwards with a yearning to reach the Dragon Isles. Whether to prevent or possess the power driving the Maelstrom only time would tell.
It had been an age since man last stepped upon the Dragon Isles. Long abandoned no-one knew what they might find in the dense jungle under the prevalent fog. But this was not a cause for concern. Something powerful created that light and it would be claimed in the name of Bretonnia.
As Aegon the Conqueror neared the coast line raw magical energy sparked from even the fingers of peasants. He ordered his army to clear and area of jungle. As if already empowered by mysterious magic his army made quick work of the dense jungle forest and built him a flotilla of ships to traverse the channel. They would sail close to the islands in hope of safe passage towards the Maelstrom. Within a moon phase his army had skirted the islands heading deep into the veil and towards the eye of the Maelstrom. As they passed close to the shore lines the Knights could not distinguish between the roar of toiling water and the monstrous beasts that ravaged the islands. Fear rose in the ranks of Aegon’s army. Anyone unable to contain that fear was dispatched quickly. The crusade could and would not end in failure for Aegon. Without the harbouring land masses to protect them the rest of the journey would have to be made on hoof. The army disembarked on the most southern of the Dragon isles.
Beasts were everywhere the Knights gazed. Majestic lizards, tamed with time almost came to greet the detachment. Not often could Men walk freely with saurs. What Aegon had found was claimed for Bretonnia. He immediately ordered his men to capture and harness these beasts ready for battle. Not knowing what to expect he pushed ever deeper.
On the fourth day upon the isle the roar of the Maelstrom stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Knights looked around, at each other, towards the dark corners of the jungle isles. Confusion surfaced. Had the gate collapsed? Had someone reached the Maelstrom before them? Perhaps the High Elves had succeeding in containing the power. Then what hit them was the light. It was blinding. The reflex was to turn away before your very eyes were burnt from the sockets. But Aegon was captured with the beautiful serenity of it. Without sound he moved towards a clearing in the forest and looked towards the heavens. He stared and the funnel of light which pierced the clouds. It was met by an arc of magic originating from the North West. As he stared in amazement what he witnessed was other worldly. Raw magic was filling the sky. He had to rub his eyes in dis-belief and he saw sea water spiral up into the sky. The maelstrom now hovered above him. Sound returned with the slow pitter-patter of rain water upon metal armour and as it did the Maelstrom of dread moved northwards driven by pure raw magic.
Was the Maelstrom itself the gate to the Chaos realm or an even greater daemon?